


Of Lists, Lazy Days, and Bragging Rights

by argyle4eva



Series: Wise As Serpents, Innocent As Doves [6]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Humor, Multi, reference to past relationships, taking the names of historical figures in vain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:48:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22074289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/argyle4eva/pseuds/argyle4eva
Summary: A short followup to "Concerning Mistletoe, Mince Pies, and the Lady of the Lake," in which Crowley can't resist running part of his speculative list past Aziraphale. A bit of fun for New Year's Day; may 2020 be kind to everyone.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Wise As Serpents, Innocent As Doves [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1535606
Comments: 11
Kudos: 63
Collections: Aziraphale's Library Festive Fic Recs





	Of Lists, Lazy Days, and Bragging Rights

“A list?” Aziraphale laughed, making Crowley bounce against his shoulder. They were propped up in bed, having decided it was a good day to do nothing – cold and wet outside, but inside a cosy nest of blankets and pajamas (red-piped black silk and flannel tartan, respectively). “You’ve actually compiled a list? How very thorough of you.”

“Well, you know me. All about curiosity and asking questions.”

“ _Are_ you asking questions?”

Crowley considered. “I suppose I could run a few names past you, get a yes or a no.”

Amused, Aziraphale, closed his book with one finger marking his place, and looked at Crowley over his reading glasses, raising his eyebrows expectantly.

“It’s just famous people,” Crowley clarified, setting his phone aside, and turning to face Aziraphale more directly.

“Go on.”

“Mmmm,” Crowley considered and decided to go with the lowest hanging fruit first. “Oscar Wilde.”

“That’s a bit like filling the ‘free’ space on a bingo card, but yes,” Aziraphale told him amiably.

Crowley decided to test his most recent addition. “King Arthur?”

Aziraphale sputtered with laughter. “What? No, absolutely not. I was very fond of him, but it was strictly _philia_. Try again.”

Crowley made a face at his miss, but tried again. “Merlin?”

“Ah.” With a crooked smile, Aziraphale tapped his nose. “Well-spotted. Who else?”

“Those were my top three, so far,” Crowley admitted, “Sticking to the famous-person rule. I’m sure I’ll add more, though.”

Aziraphale snorted. “Really, love, you make it sound like I’ve been running rampant through history. I really haven’t – maybe an average of . . .” mental calculations were made. “Once every couple of centuries? If that?”

“That’s still, what, thirty people?”

Aziraphale gave him a sunny smile. “I believe that’s for me to know and you to find out.”

Crowley groaned good-naturedly. “I’ll keep adding names, you know, and I will ask.” He started to pick up his phone again.

“I suppose,” Aziraphale began, and stopped.

“Yeeeeeeeess?” Crowley prompted, putting his phone back down. Aziraphale was looking hopeful.

“As a reward for two correct guesses, I could volunteer a name for your list.”

“Would this be a name you’re really, incredibly smug about, and can’t wait for me to guess on my own?” Crowley teased.

Aziraphale waffled a moment, for appearances, then admitted, “Yes,” with an impatient little wiggle.

“All right. Lay it on me. Make me jealous.”

Aziraphale gave him a flirty, sidelong, through-the-eyelashes look and said, “Sappho.”

Crowley blinked. “No way,” he said, genuinely impressed. “ _The_ Sappho?”

“As far as I’m aware, there’s really only one,” Azhiraphale said, his blinding grin undermining the pedantry.

“How’d you manage that?”

“Well, I didn’t plan on it. Her poetry was so beautiful, I simply had to meet her. I assumed a female form, to be respectful --”

“Respectful. Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”

“Hush.” Aziraphale punctuated the command with a gentle poke to the ribs. “Anyway, she turned out to be a simply lovely person, in all respects. A stunning voice, and hair the color of your wings . . .” Aziraphale trailed off, a bit dreamily, and Crowley returned the rib-poke to help keep things moving along.

“Ahem. Yes, anyway, one thing led to another and we spent a marvelous afternoon in each other’s company. She even performed one of her lyric poems afterwards – a private performance, just for me. Her singing was indescribable.” He sighed.

“Mmmph, okay, you get to be smug about that one. And here I was wondering where you’d learned all that female stuff.”

“Oh, that wasn’t all from Sappho. It was glorious, but it was only once.”

“You didn’t go back?”

“I already understand the value of . . . distance. I haven’t always kept to it, but in this case I did. It would have been far too easy to become, ah, more involved than I should. Better one perfect afternoon, sometimes.”

Crowley sighed. “I understand. I never got into the sex side of things, but . . .” He paused. “It’s not like I didn’t get offers. If we’re bragging about it.”

“Yes?” Aziraphale prodded.

“Leonardo da Vinci.”

“Impressive.” Aziraphale knew about the Mona Lisa sketch, of course. _To my friend Anthony from your friend Leo da V._ It was, in fact, hanging in their main room, being one the few things Crowley hadn’t been willing to leave in London. “I do think you would have been his type.”

Crowley snorted. “If you mean Salaì, I’ve no idea why he got to hang around as long as he did. He hated my guts, kept looking daggers at me whenever I showed up. Fortunately it never turned into real daggers.

“Anyway, I think Leonardo was actually flattered when I turned him down. He seemed to like that I enjoyed spending time with him, without wanting to get into his hose. Lots of wine and lots of talking, over the years. Reminded me of . . .” he stopped and glanced at Aziraphale.

“I do sense a bit of a theme, for both of us.” Aziraphale’s expression was wryly amused.

“’Hair the color of your wings,’” Crowley quoted back, equally wry. “And you said Merlin reminded you of me.”

“We’re hopeless,” Aziraphale agreed.

“Arse over tit the very first day, for me,” Crowley said, offhandedly, but making the admission for the first time out loud.

“I think for me as well,” Aziraphale said, surprising Crowley, “though it took a very long time to realize it.” He smiled, and kissed the side of Crowley’s head. Neither of them was feeling up to any sort of effort, or Effort, that day, by mutual agreement, but kissing was still pleasant.

Crowley made a happy, back-of-the-throat noise and slumped a bit more aggressively against Aziraphale’s solid warmth. He had just reached for his phone again, when Aziraphale added. “Oh, and by the way, I learned a lot of it from Merlin.”

Crowley’s eyes widened, though he didn’t move. “What?”

“You asked about my, ah, female experience. I learned a lot of it from Merlin. He was a shapeshifter, you know, with an adventurous lifetime under his belt.” Azirphale snickered, making the double entendre abundantly clear.

Crowley attempted to process that. “You’re a shapeshifter,” he pointed out.

“Yes. We had some wild times together. Never a dull moment.” Aziraphale’s tone was fond, but also as salacious as a currently-sexless being could get.

“ _I’m_ a shapeshifter.” Even in the purely abstract, the implications were suddenly staggering.

“We’ll get to that, love. For now, we’re still enjoying the basics.”

“Ngk.”

“It’s good to have things to look forward to as a couple,” Aziraphale told him, prim as a newspaper advice columnist, and re-opened his book.

After a moment, Crowley reminded himself about birds, mountains, and eternity, and went back to his phone. A lazy afternoon was something to be savored, too, after all.


End file.
